


the mating habits of wolves

by Technicolour (Lirriel)



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Fantasy, Background Binu, Background Myunghyuk, Established Relationship, Fluff (In a Weird Way), Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Marking, Vampires, Werewolves, culture clash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirriel/pseuds/Technicolour
Summary: Jinwoo continues to treat Sanha like any other pack member.
Relationships: Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin/Yoon Sanha
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	the mating habits of wolves

**Author's Note:**

> I don't typically give warnings at the start of my works, but just know this is pretty rough and unrefined and is basically something I threw together because I wanted to do some worldbuilding. 
> 
> Additionally, this is technically a _sequel_ to another, much longer story that I've had sitting in my wips for a while. (With actual build up and payoff and slowburn ships and not just me dumping words in a doc lmao.) Expect that sometime in 2021 :')
> 
> So, with all these warnings and explanations, please, uh, try to enjoy :^)

I.

Relations between werewolves and vampires have always been sticky. Even before the Great War, even before the slow extermination of vampires and the careful domestication of werewolves – even when it was common for the two species to couple and live alongside humans in relative harmony.

Which is why Sanha isn’t surprised that there are growing pains in the relationship he’s carefully cultivated with Jinwoo.

Part of it has to do with timing: he’s forced into a nocturnal lifestyle by biology itself, and Jinwoo’s seat on the city council means that his most active hours are during the day. But there’s also the fact that despite being the oldest of the werewolves, Jinwoo showcases none of the behaviors that signify he’s found a partner.

He presses kisses to Sanha’s cheek when he comes home from work, ruffles Sanha’s hair when he’s sat at the computer playing a game – but there is nothing to show that he has specifically marked Sanha as more than pack – and what’s worse is that Sanha doesn’t even warrant the small scratches he trails down Bin’s arm or the hard nip he places on Minhyuk’s finger when offered a taste of the younger Park’s newest culinary creation.

He’s just – a vampire. Like Eunwoo. Like Myungjun.

But at least _their_ boyfriends make their feelings clear.

II.

He first realized just how different werewolves were from vampires early on in their cohabitation. Even though it had been forced, even though half their group hated each other, he had still been able to witness firsthand how a self-selected pack functioned.

Outside of the natural family dynamic, Jinwoo had assumed the role of leader by democracy, backed by Bin’s stalwart support and Minhyuk’s apparent adoration. There had been nothing strange in how Minhyuk brushed out Bin’s hair, in how Bin kept watch in the dark as Jinwoo took the garbage out, in how Jinwoo brought home small treats that catered to each man’s interest – but then there had been Bin, who would practically rub against Jinwoo when he came home, who would casually loop an arm around Minhyuk after they had both worked out. And there had been Minhyuk: quick to respond to even the smallest change in one of the other’s temperature, nursing them back to perfect health with specially-prepared food and constant bedside care.

It had been Jinwoo whose domestic quirk seemed most out of place for a vampire like Sanha. He was a bloodsucker, after all – for him, the touch of his teeth to another person’s skin had always been intimate. But Jinwoo would naturally curl his arm around Bin’s neck, drag him down close, and set his front teeth and canines against Bin’s head, applying pressure until the other man squirmed away or yelled. With Minhyuk, Jinwoo went after his fingers, sometimes just catching his hand and lifting it up to fit his mouth around the swell of Minhyuk’s thumb.

Sanha knew Jinwoo was careful to never leave marks – but just the act of placing one’s teeth against another’s skin without intent to draw blood seemed bizarre.

III.

They’re all pack now, of course. At the end of it all, Minhyuk was the first to make that clear. But then, Sanha thinks, Minhyuk was the one to start everything. Of course he’d be the first to reach across their species, knocking down the wall between them like it was silly to ever have it up in the first place.

It was Minhyuk who first started making them family meals (and Sanha had never _had_ a family meal, didn’t even know they still existed outside of daytime tv specials), picking up on likes and dislikes and subtly adjusting his dishes until they all looked forward to dinner.

And it was he who was the first of the werewolves to make his choice in partner loud and clear – and that had been funny, watching Myungjun (grumpy, ancient Myungjun, who had once spoken spite with every word) be absolutely smothered in love.

Minhyuk had made him dinners. But he had also made baked monstrosities: Guinness chocolate cake topped with crème fraiche, salted caramel chocolate tarts, rose and raspberry meringue treats. The kitchen became contested territory overnight as Minhyuk made full use of the space to test out and refine recipes that might best show his love. Jinwoo had to practically fight Minhyuk off a few times just to pop a frozen pizza in the oven so that the rest of them might not starve while their star cook toiled away on confections they were barred from.

Minhyuk took care in what he fed Myungjun, of course. A night of chocolate decadence was oftentimes followed by an overloading of fresh fruits and newly-picked vegetables, but it was clear Myungjun thrived under the care he received. The eldest vampire had always been stick-thin, his body nursed into shape by a steady diet of too-much grief and too-many vices – but under Minhyuk’s affection, he blossomed, with flesh filling out the roundness of his cheeks, his torso layering strips of fat over what had once been too-prominent bones.

And perhaps he became a little overweight, a little plump – all that changed was the way Minhyuk cuddled him, head tucked into the curl of Myungjun’s neck, his hands beating out a satisfying drum roll on Myungjun’s stomach as he hugged Myungjun from behind.

And Myungjun would laugh. Pure, bright joy spilling from his mouth like sunshine through an open door, warming everyone who heard it.

It was beautiful. (And sometimes insufferable.)

IV.

Minhyuk’s open expression of love could have been regarded as obnoxious – but his was certainly less present than Bin’s, whose ready affection often led Sanha to wonder (idly, without malice, because it was sweet even if it was also somewhat nauseating to witness) if Bin had been touch-starved as a child.

Because it did not matter what time Eunwoo came home. It did not matter how hard Bin had worked the night before, it did not matter how ragged the city’s security team had run him. He would, without fail, emerge from his bedroom or the living room or even, once, from the fucking bathroom (soaking wet, a single towel just barely clinging to his hips and protecting everyone’s eyes), and he would _engulf_ Eunwoo.

Sanha had thought him akin to a cat, with how lazily he would rub against Jinwoo. But when it came to Eunwoo, Bin was all dog. Like a pet deprived of its master’s love for too long, he would wrap himself around Eunwoo in a bone-crushing hug, rubbing the line of his jaw against first Eunwoo’s face and then his hair and his neck – and further down, if no one was around to watch.

But it was not just a simple desire to mark. Even when Eunwoo had been home for days and Bin had not left his side once, Bin would still find an excuse to wrap his arm around Eunwoo or bury his nose against Eunwoo’s pulse, his eyelids fluttering as he inhaled deeply. And intermixed with all these small, noticeable touches, was the steady and subtle exchange of kisses. The smallest touch of contact between their lips, almost always initiated by Eunwoo, as if he sought to mark Bin as equally as Bin marked him.

And if more than once Bin stumbled from his room, shirt off and body covered in bruises that bloomed like roses – well, vampires had their own way of marking their chosen partners. They were just more discreet.

V.

Jinwoo did not mark Sanha. He did not rub against Sanha (except in a friendly, tired way, when he had been worn through from too many council meetings and needed listless affection), and he did not make extravagant meals (but he did cook, or helped Sanha cook, when he could spare the time and energy needed).

And Sanha quietly suffered, watching Eunwoo get nuzzled all over and watching Myungjun get fed tidbits of home-made ice cream – and knowing that Jinwoo must love him, had said he loved him, but having no tangible proof that it was so.

It was Bin, mercifully, who ended his misery.

VI.

“He doesn’t want to hurt you,” Bin told him, thumb jamming at the button that increased the speed of his treadmill. He already had it set at max incline, and the motor was screaming bloody murder. It was an older model, because they were at an older gym – one of the few places that stayed open all night and whose management didn’t offer Sanha ugly looks anytime he walked in.

“He wouldn’t,” Sanha retorted. He kept his own machine at a more leisurely jog, unwilling to waste effort on a body that was naturally stronger than any normal human or untransformed werewolf. “He doesn’t seem to care when he bites you.”

“Pack’s different,” Bin answered. He swept his bangs back from his face, feet pounding on in a steady rhythm that spoke to years of training. “Werewolf pack,” he amended with a grimace at Sanha’s pointed silence. “We grow up biting the shit out of each other.”

Bin tapped his index finger above his eye, drawing attention to the scar that cut through his eyebrow. “Sua did that to me when we were babies. Barely had her canines in.” He sounded proud.

“He probably wouldn’t even be able to pierce skin.”

Bin’s mouth twisted at that, his gaze rolling skyward as he considered the high-flung ceiling and the light fixtures that hung from it. “I didn’t really have a problem with Eunwoo,” he admitted haltingly. “We, uh—.”

“Gross,” Sanha said. “Please, stop.”

Bin snorted, one hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. Sounding mutinous, he said, “Nothing wrong with it.”

“What was wrong was that I had to sit outside or risk listening to you two,” Sanha said. He internally shuddered at the memory, even though what followed had been nice enough. Forced out of the house by the sounds of Bin and Eunwoo hate-fucking each other in some weird fight over dominance, he’d been left stranded on the front step with only his phone and nothing fun on the internet until Jinwoo came home from work. Once he’d taken in the situation, Jinwoo had invited Sanha out for ice cream, and they’d killed a handful of hours walking around and eating.

It had been the first time Sanha had been able to speak to Jinwoo one-on-one. It had been nice.

“We’re better now,” Bin said.

Sanha rolled his eyes and tapped the speed a few levels lower, settling into a walk to cool down. “Only because Jinwoo went out and bought a bunch of those soundproof wall panels.”

“I paid for them too.”

“Thanks for your contribution to my ability to sleep,” Sanha said. The air beside him rippled, and he ducked to the side before returning to his regular walk. “Too slow,” he chirped, offering Bin a cheeky grin.

Bin withdrew his hand with a sigh, instead raising it to run through his hair. “You get more obnoxious by the day,” he said. “I should just bite you and let Jinwoo thrash my ass when he gets home.”

“I assume you mean in wolf form,” Sanha said. “You biting me like this is just _ugh_.” He squinted his eyes and stuck out his tongue to underline his message.

“Definitely wolf form,” Bin confirmed. “But, I mean… Jinwoo is like Myungjun, you know? They’re both old, they both lived through that war. He probably doesn’t want to force something on you that some people might find uncomfortable or overwhelming. Biting isn’t an uncommon type of marking, but it’s definitely not something that everyone can handle.”

“I can,” Sanha said.

“Uh-huh,” Bin said. He didn’t sound convinced.

VII.

Sanha got his wish, albeit in a way he didn’t expect. In the aftermath, he couldn’t even really pinpoint what made this day different from all the rest. He’d reached across Jinwoo to grab the television remote, to flip it from whatever stupid news show was on (he could only take so many back-to-back segments on how vampire populations were at an all-time low, especially when these same reporters had once warned how dangerous his kind was) to something more palatable.

And Jinwoo had just been fiddling with his phone, typing out responses to aids and fellow council members, his brows furrowed together in an intensity that sat oddly upon his face. And then his eyes had flickered up, his tongue had darted out to lick his lower lip – and the next thing Sanha knew, only half-paying attention, was a bright, bursting pain centered on the middle of his forearm.

He screamed (more from shock than pain, but it was a crushing pain unlike the piercing touch of a vampire’s fangs) and wrenched his arm out of Jinwoo’s mouth without quite realizing what he’d done. He smelled the spill of blood and looked down to see where Jinwoo’s sharpest teeth had shorn through his skin. There was an angry red welt, bookmarked by two small wounds that bled freely.

It was, in every respect, a mark.

“Shit,” was the first thing out of Jinwoo’s mouth. He was clearly torn between crowding into Sanha’s space to examine the wound and pulling back to prevent another bite. “Sanha, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean—that is, I wasn’t paying attention—.”

He was fumbling his words, Sanha noted idly. His fingers ran over the bruised skin, tracing out the individual indents that Jinwoo’s teeth had left behind. There was a touch of wetness, where traces of Jinwoo’s saliva had been left, but it was a remarkably clean bite, which meant that it had been a proper marking and Jinwoo had possessed no desire to actually take a chunk out of him.

“You finally marked me,” he said – and noted the irony of being _happy_ to have been bitten.

The look Jinwoo offered him was pained. “I made you bleed,” he said.

“I’m a vampire,” Sanha said with a smile. He reached out with his marked hand to catch one of Jinwoo’s. He raised Jinwoo’s hand to his mouth, his lips skimming the long, lean digits. His gaze never left Jinwoo’s eyes, quietly compelling him not to look away. “In the southern continent, wedding vows are exchanged with bites, directly over the pulse point. I feed by biting you. Bites—and blood?—are kind of our thing.”

“It hurt,” Jinwoo murmured. His eyes were softening under Sanha’s gentle touches. “Vampire bites don’t really hurt.”

Sanha hummed against the pad of Jinwoo’s ring finger. He set it to the seam of his mouth and delicately pricked the flesh with a lower canine, his tongue laving over the blood that beaded up. “They can,” he said, his lower lip stained a brighter red.

“I was waiting for you to bite me,” he continued, not wanting to miss this chance. “But you never did.”

“Sanha,” Jinwoo said, a warning and a plea punctuated by the rolling sigh that pushed free of his lips as Sanha’s tongue ran over the puncture wound. The dizzying cocktail of agents in Sanha’s saliva soothed Jinwoo’s hurt even as it bolstered his sensitivity. Since Sanha wasn’t actually hungry, Jinwoo’s blood would clot soon enough, but he enjoyed the few drips of blood while he could.

“You mark the other werewolves,” Sanha said. He pressed a final, reverent kiss to Jinwoo’s finger before releasing his hand. It fell back into Jinwoo’s lap, the fingers flexing as if Sanha’s touch had tingled.

“They heal easier,” Jinwoo retorted.

“You must have marked Myungjun.” He was pushing into unknown territory, a part of the past that Jinwoo never spoke about.

“That was a different time,” Jinwoo whispered.

Sanha sighed. Sat together on the couch, it was too easy to push into Jinwoo’s space, practically climbing on top of him, trapping Jinwoo between his arms and looking down at him. A vampire was stronger than an untransformed werewolf, and Sanha knew Jinwoo wouldn’t turn wolf.

“I’m not fragile,” he told Jinwoo. He offered a toothy grin and said, “I could tear your throat out, if I wanted.”

Jinwoo licked at his lower lip again, the movement momentarily capturing Sanha’s attention.

“You really don’t mind?” Jinwoo asked at last, and some of the slow-crawling heat that had spread up Sanha’s spine died off. He forced himself to breathe easier, to focus in on what Jinwoo was asking of him.

“No,” Sanha affirmed. “I want you to be as obnoxious as Bin and Minhyuk are.”

Jinwoo wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I can be as bad as Bin,” he said, and the words were paired with a sweet smile that whispered mischief.

“Make it a competition,” Sanha murmured. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to Jinwoo’s mouth, a slip of his fang splitting open Jinwoo’s lip. He sucked at the blood, settling himself on Jinwoo’s lap, his thighs snug around Jinwoo’s hips—and was forced to break off the kiss as something shifted in the corner of his eye.

He looked up, irritated, Jinwoo’s face still framed between his arms, to find Myungjun leaning against the doorframe that spilled out into the house’s entrance. The elder vampire’s face was a mask of disbelief coupled with an exasperation that was kin to Sanha’s own.

“The couch?” he asked. “Am I going to find you fucking on the floor next?”

“Bin and Eunwoo can keep the floor,” Sanha shot back. He felt Jinwoo shift beneath him, clearly uncomfortable with an audience, and reluctantly slipped off him. He settled down beside Jinwoo but left his hand on top of Jinwoo’s thigh. He squeezed gentle reassurances even as he faced Myungjun. “And you don’t have any right to judge; I’ve heard you and Minhyuk in the kitchen.”

“On the counter,” Jinwoo added, which was not something Sanha had known. He wished he still didn’t.

“Perfect excuse to renovate,” Myungjun said, waving his hand lazily. “And, please,” he said, “bite Jinwoo. He loves it.”

Sanha did not bristle—he was not a dog, after all—but he did bare his teeth even as Jinwoo squirmed beside him.

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo said.

“It’s true,” the vampire shot back. “Bite him as hard as he bites you; that’s his favorite love language.”

“Stop,” Jinwoo pleaded.

Sanha forced himself back into the conversation, a smile that showed off the full eruption of his fangs set upon his face as he sized up his elder. Vampires were a covetous, conceited species even under the best of circumstances, and each reminder that Myungjun had once claimed his partner was making his teeth ache.

“I’ll do even better,” he said, the hand on Jinwoo’s knee blindly seeking one of Jinwoo’s hands. When he found it, he threaded their fingers together and held tight. “I’ve seen a lot of interesting tricks on the internet.”

“Dear God,” Myungjun said, voice dry. “The baby has discovered porn.”

“Oh, leave!” Sanha snapped. He had wanted to be suave and cool, but his voice was rising in pitch, going thin and childish, beneath the surprisingly level stare Myungjun kept trained on him. “No one invited you here, anyway.”

“I technically live here,” Myungjun said, with a glance at Jinwoo. “I invited myself here.”

Sanha groaned and had just begun to formulate how he might best drive the elder vampire away when Myungjun stopped leaning against the doorframe. “Well,” he said, struggling to contain a huge yawn, “as lovely as this has been, the bed is calling my name. I can’t stay awake on candy all day like you can.”

Whatever retort Sanha was going to give (bad, because his brain definitely wasn’t attached to his mouth in that instance) died on his tongue when Jinwoo squeezed his hand. He glanced back toward the werewolf, saw a crooked smile on Jinwoo’s face, and reluctantly admitted defeat with a quiet, “Night,” that Jinwoo echoed much more brightly.

“Take good care of each other,” Myungjun added as he crossed the living room and paused at the base of the staircase that led upstairs. “Jinwoo—what I said before? I take it back.”

“Bit late,” Jinwoo said. But he was smiling as he said it.

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders. “You know us immortals,” he said, mouth curling. “We’re terrible when it comes to time.”

When he had gone, Sanha asked, “What was that about?”—and then squeaked in surprise when Jinwoo wrapped him up in a hug from behind, pinning Sanha’s arms to his sides. The werewolf pulled him backward, until his head was nestled just beneath Jinwoo’s chin, and Sanha had to strain his eyes to look up at him.

“Old fight,” Jinwoo said. There was a touch of smugness to his voice, something that made Sanha’s stomach flutter, when he added, “Don’t complain, by the way. You asked for this.”

Sanha had only just begun to ask what Jinwoo meant when Jinwoo’s head tipped forward and something hard touched against the back of Sanha’s head. He squealed, the sensation so shocking and weird that, as soon as Jinwoo released him, he was on the other end of the couch, desperately rubbing at his scalp with his mouth hanging open.

“What was that?” he asked, something like a whine slipping into his voice as he rubbed harder at the spot, trying to brush away the weird feeling that persisted.

“I said not to complain,” Jinwoo said idly. His lips were slightly parted, just enough that Sanha could see the occasional flash of his tongue as he ran it over his teeth. “Is that shampoo non-toxic to dogs?” he asked, trying not to smirk.

“I,” Sanha said, still trying to gather together his thoughts. Jinwoo’s bite had been so unexpected, so different from the earlier mark that yet throbbed on his arm, that his entire mind had blanked out. “Yes,” he said, dumbly, unable to manage anything else.

“That’s good.” Jinwoo wore an open smile. “Come here?”

Sanha went willingly.


End file.
